


Excuses to Smush Lips

by allegoricalrose (SilentStars)



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Canon Era, Crack, Epsiode Fix-it: s02e13 Doomsday, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Season/Series 02, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 20:16:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4933810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilentStars/pseuds/allegoricalrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor finds increasingly creative excuses to get Rose to kiss him across Series Two.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Excuses to Smush Lips

**Author's Note:**

> I innocently logged onto Tumblr this afternoon and got about three posts down before I saw this prompt at @timepetalsprompts. And I couldn’t shake it. (Prompt: _Ten finding an excuse to kiss Rose during every episode_ )

He’s exhausted after all is said and done and alien ships are shot down with technology Earth shouldn’t have and Rose notices. He milks it, lighting up even as he slumps into her side, letting her wrap an arm around his torso and walk him back up to the flat. If Jackie’s there, holding his waist too, well, that’s a price he’s willing to pay for the feeling of Rose’s ribs pressed against his, her fingers repeatedly bunching up thin pajama fabric and then hastily releasing again as they meander.

More tea is offered back at the flat and he accepts. He accepts even though there’s something else he wants between his lips: something his previous body died doing; something his current body was born craving. She tucks him into her bed, or at least what used to be her bed before her mum turned her room into a guest room, but it’s still her bed and it’s where he wants to be. She notices this too (she notices everything. Everything except—) and laughs as he snuggles deep into the duvet and rubs his legs up and down the sheets, content and yet not quite content. 

“Rose?”

“Do you want more tea before I hit the sack? I’ll be right next door, in Mum’s room, yeah?”

He looks at the empty spot beside him and back at her. She continues watching him, no hint that she’s picked up on his subtle pleas. He tries again, trying to gesture with his eyes what his voice won’t yet say, and she follows his gaze but only tucks him in more tightly.

He clears his throat. “Rose, I… Rose, there’s something… Rose.”

She laughs again, deep and happy, and he forgets what he was stumbling to say for a second. “Doctor.”

There’s no stopping a dopey grin on his face.  _Doctor._  His beautiful wolf knows it’s still him. He loves her. He loves her and—

They lock gaze for seven point three two seconds and it’s glorious. He wants to live in those seconds forever, repeating them forever, where he’s utterly, besottedly connected to her and—is ‘besottedly’ a word? He doesn’t care.  Here in these 7.32 seconds it’s the perfect word and it’s glorious.

“Alright, if there’s nothing else, I’ll—”

“Oxytocin.”

She blinks. “Say what?”

“It jump starts my new body, even better than tea.” He is 100% not lying. “A, um… kiss. Kisses release oxytocin.” Still not lying.

“Oh. Um…”

“It could be anyone’s kiss! Jackie’s even! That would be fine!” he hastily adds, seeing her discomfort. He’s 100% lying. “But, um, well, I don’t want to bother anyone and you’re here so, um…” There. Back to the truth.

“On the cheek?”

He nods, averting his eyes, feeling guilty. It’s all true, her kiss  _would_  make him feel better. No doubt about it. But he also doesn’t want to scare her, to force her to do anything she doesn’t want to do. Maybe she’s less okay with all this, all these corporal changes, than she’s let on. Maybe she’d rather stay here and not travel with him, with this alien new body. Maybe she—

After a second of silence, he musters the courage to look at her again. There’s a gleam in her eyes. “Well. If there’s a  _reason_  for it, I’m happy to help.”

She’s saying even more with her eyes than he can comprehend right now, some language even his brilliant mind struggles to translate. But he can at least interpret the affect, and the affect is all positive. His chest swells; maybe he should check whether this new body has a surplus of any organs. Because there’s definitely another heart in there.

He’s pretty sure it’s not his though.

She leans down and brushes her lips against his cheek. “Good night, Doctor.”

He watches her stand up and exit the room, her eyes never leaving his.

Right. Reasons for kisses. He can work with that.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Cassandra’s consoling herself and they’re back in the TARDIS, pulling levers and respecting the gravitas that has settled across the timeship. Rose grimaces when the time rotor starts whooshing and he’s at her side in an instant.

“Headache?”

“Yeah,” she reluctantly admits. “Feels like that psychograft thingy pulvarised the inside of my skull.” She pulls her hair out of the ponytail, her still damp waves flying in every direction. “A good sleep ought to sort it though.”

A beautiful hand runs down his arm and squeezes his bicep before its owner turns toward the bedroom corridor. “Rose. Wait.”

“Mm?”

“I…I should check that everything’s fine. In your head, I mean. That technology is experimental, and illegal for a reason. I should…”

Worry crosses her face. “You think I might have brain damage?”

“No! No. Absolutely not. But there’s probably some inflammation. That I can fix.”

“Oh, right. Okay. Infirmary?”

He shifts his weight between his feet. “Could do. But I can also check you myself.”

A look of understanding, now. “Ah. With your magic telepathic fingers?” She winces after she’s done talking and a blush rises across her cheeks; the Doctor’s not sure why.

He steps closer. “Actually, my fingers would work, but I have even more nerve endings elsewhere.” Her eyes widen; he has an inkling why, this time. “Er, in my lips. My lips have more nerve endings. Per square centimetre, that is.”

She exhales and he tucks  _that_  idea away for later. Much later.

“Okay.”

Okay? Okay! Yes. Right! He hesitantly cups her cheek and her eyes flutter closed.

Her eyes snap open when he presses his lips to her temple but then he feels her relax. (When had he gripped her arm?) He tastes an emotion akin to disappointment and he files that away for later too. It’s only a few seconds before he releases her, her headache virtually gone, and he feels bereft only as long as it takes her to reach up on her tiptoes and kiss his cheek.

“Thanks, Doctor.”

He watches her leave. He plots.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Are you sure the lupine wavelength haemovariform didn’t bite you?”

“I think I’d know if the werewolf bit me, Doctor.”

“Maybe not.”

“Doctor.”

“Rose. I should check. I won’t sleep unless I’m certain you’re alright.”

“You don’t sleep anyway.”

“Rose.”

“Doctor.”

“Please.”

“…Fine.”

“Rose?”

“Yeah?”

“Remember how I said my lips were more sensitive than my fingers?”

“Yeah…”

“The bite could be really small. It’s probably on your neck. I should…”

_Sigh._ “Alright. Go on then.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Mickey gets the front seat of Sarah Jane’s car, if only because the Doctor jumps into the backseat and pulls Rose in beside him before anyone could call shotgun. She’s not exactly speaking to him but she’s not pulling away when he spreads his legs so that he’s pressed into her.

She quirks her lips up slightly when he puts his hand on her knee, out of Sarah’s eyesight, and all of his stupid excuses feel even more flimsy.

Sarah Jane makes a hasty exit to her room, pointing out the guest room with a queen sized bed and the fold-out sofa in the living room, cleverly not wanting to get in the middle of  _those_  sleeping arrangements. Rose silently claims the guest room and Mickey and the Doctor glower at one another.

Luckily K-9 still needs tinkering so Mickey’s left to his own devices in the sofabed. Until it’s about 4am and the Doctor’s gone as far as to build a whole new K-9 backup in his need to stay busy. And even that’s done.

Mickey’s snoring like a bulldozer on the couch.

Rose doesn’t snore.

He doesn’t think so, anyway. He doesn’t know. He hates that he doesn’t know.

He’s going to find out.

The door creaks despite his best shushing and she groggily opens one eye. “Doctor?”

“Mickey snores.”

She snorts and lifts a corner of the duvet, rolling onto her side away from the door and falling back asleep. It doesn’t take him as long as it probably should to make up his mind to slide in next to her, close but not quite touching.

“Rose?”

She grumbles something incoherent but flips around so that she’s facing him, eyes still closed.

“I think Sarah Jane fancies me,” he whispers.

A non-committal hum.

“Can you kiss me tomorrow? When she’s watching? Maybe that will let her down easy.”

“Absolutely not.”

He scrunches up his forehead that  _this_  is what she chooses to enunciate clearly.

“Why not?”

She scoots forward and plants a short, chaste kiss on his lips. “You have to say goodbye to her properly, Doctor.”

It turns out Rose snores after all. They’re quiet, cute little things and he lies awake, savouring their rhythm.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

She rolls her eyes. “You look ridiculous.”

He puffs up his chest even further. “I do not! I look magnificent. Valiant. Knight in pin-striped armor.”

She buries her face in Arthur’s mane to hide her laughter. He deflates, a little, at that but all isn’t lost quite yet.

“Roooose. Admit it. It’s sexy!”

“I’ve never cared for knights, anyway. They’re always on conquests: their poor ladies. I’ve never cared much for waiting, me.”

He pouts. “At least give me a token of your favour, my lady. Something to keep me fighting when I’m gone.”

An eyebrow is raised.

“A handkerchief?”

“Um. I have an old Kleenex?” She digs in her pockets and retrieves a wadded up old tissue.

He tucks it seriously into his breast pocket.  “And with a kiss, I’ll away.”

“What?”

“Rose…” he whines. “Don’t ruin it!”

She sighs with a twinkle in her eyes and stands on her tippy toes. He leans down and crashes his lips into hers, probably harder than she’s expecting. This unfortunately only has the effect of knocking her off balance and falling away from him, cutting the embrace short.

“Alright. You’re sure this plan will work? What if all the portals get closed off?”

He swallows. Plan? He was supposed to have a plan?

“Er, yes, fair lady. No…worries. I’ll rescue the damsel and be back to claim my prize.”

She bursts into laughter, tears streaming down her face; he clears his throat and pretends to know what the hell he’s doing apart from impressing her with his horse-riding prowess.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“It’s the only way, Rose. We have to play the part.”

“To be clear, we need to keep holding hands and you need to keep smelling my hair because your psychic paper decided that we’re a married couple?”

“Yep. Sometimes it works in ways I just can’t control!”

“ _Why_ , exactly, did it need to list this marital status information? We’re just extra waiting staff.”

“I don’t know, Rose. Maybe we’re replacing a married couple and they’d be suspicious if we’re not…handsy. Maybe they’re newlyweds! Imagine the scandal if we didn’t act all loved up!”

“You’re not making any sense. Hand me the dress they gave me, it’s behind you.”

“Sure.”

“What the hell, what kind of party is this? Why is my uniform more of a slutty maid’s costume?”

“So it is. Huh. I definitely didn’t notice other female staff wearing that when we arrived and were deciding the best way to sneak inside.”

“Uh huh. Help me zip it up.”

“Certainly.”

“Doctor?”

“Hmm?”

“We’re alone. You don’t have to keep kissing me to keep up the pretense.”

“You never know where there might be cameras, Rose. Better safe than sorry.”

“Mm. Right.”

“Er, um, yes, just like that. Perfect, Rose. Keep that up.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

He’s in her bed and he’s watching her. She’s mostly trying to fall asleep but she keeps opening and closing her eyes.

“Doctor. Stop staring at me, I can feel your gaze even with my eyes closed!”

Silence. He doesn’t even blink.

“You said you were tired. Close your eyes,” she groans, covering her eyes with her forearm. She doesn’t turn away from him though.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” Her voice is soft, gentle.

“You… your face.”

She removes her arm from her face and moves it so that she can stroke his hair. “All intact now. It’s fine.”

He shifts his hips on the bed so that he can reach over and trail a finger along her jawline. His touch is light and she shivers when he moves to trace her lips, her curve of her nose.

“Doctor?” His eyes flicker over to hers but he doesn’t respond. Not in words, anyway: there’s a fear radiating out of his irises that startles her out of breathing for a moment. “Did you want… Your lips. You said they’re more sensitive. Do you want to..?”

She doesn’t even have time to blink before he’s above her, an elbow on either side of her body as his lips race across her cheeks, her eyelids, the surprised creases in her forehead. Open-mouthed kisses are interspersed with light sucks, desperate gridlines drawn across the axes of her face. She captures his lips for her own the moment they’re near enough, drawing his lower lip between her teeth and tugging him closer and closer until his teeth crash against hers and he’s mapping the inside of her mouth with his tongue instead.

Once his hearts begin to slow and he breathing evens out he collapses back onto his side, pulling her with him so that she’s tucked tightly into his chest.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispers but he can’t hear her response, muffled as it is into the layers of his clothing.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

No excuse is needed when they’re reunited after the black hole; he twirls her in his arms and she lifts her chin the second her feet are on the floor. She tears at that bloody orange spacesuit and they barely remember to sign off with the crew of the ex-Sanctuary Base Six before the rest of their clothes are kicked to the grating.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“But Roooose, I’m happy right here! Time machine, see!” He taps the wall near the sofa where they’re curled up watching a movie. “We can sort this out any time. Tomorrow, in a week, in a year...” He notices her glare and tries another tactic. “In an hour? There’s a lot I can do in an hour.”

She pauses, her tongue unconsciously wetting her lips.  _Aha_. This might be his ticket. After their night (and  _brilliant_  morning) together a few days back, they’ve fallen back to old routines, hand holding and snuggling but never anything further, and he knows it’s his fault. His hearts are pounding to move faster but his scared old head is screaming to slow down, to run away, to remember lifespans and curses, and all it’s resulted in is a kind of stasis that neither Cartesian parts are happy about.

Playful. Playful is something both sides can be on board with.

“My mum’s in some sort of trouble. I don’t know what but I won’t be able to concentrate on anything else until it’s sorted. Time machine or not.”

He mirrors her earlier lip wetting but his is entirely intentional. “Alright. But it’ll cost you.”

She’s about to get angry when she notices the gleam in his eyes. Her eyes dilate slightly and her shoulders relax. “Oh yeah? What’s that then?”

“Something along the lines of…a kiss, perhaps.”

She twists so that she’s facing him with a tongue-tipped smirk and wraps her arms around his neck. “Done.” And then her lips are on his and then her tongue is on his and her hips are on his and ohhh never mind that bloody head of his. Hearts, every time.

“Mmm, that’s nice,” he somehow manages to comment calmly when she eventually pulls away, all bee-stung lips and wild hair. “Quite nice indeed. But that’s not  _quite_  the location of which I was thinking.”

He waggles his eyebrows. Rose’s eyes widen. And then they darken.

She’s just about to locate that hidden trouser clasp of his when a text message comes through.

_Come NOW._

They’re both a little frustrated when they land and hear Jackie’s story and they don’t even both hiding their anger when they catch up to Elton in an alleyway. The Doctor’s almost serious when he blithely tells the fellow from Clom to go ahead and absorb the troublemaker and overall it’s their shortest adventure in a long while.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Rose, I smell metal residue on you. Charcoal maybe, not sure.”

“What? How? That doesn’t make any sense, if anything you’re the one who was turned in a dr—”

“I didn’t say it made sense. But I need to check it out.”

“What?”

“Just in case. Take off your top.”

“Doctor…”

“Nope, not there. Further down. Trousers, please.”

“Mmm, Doctor, you don’t need to think up excuses—”

“Shh now, I’m concentrating. It’s a very small amount, hardly discernible. I’ll have to use my lips.”

“Should we—mmm—do this in the bedroom?”

“No time. I think I may have localised it. Your knickers will have to be sacrificed, I’m afraid.”

_*Snap*_

“Didn’t like ‘em anyway.”

“Shh, no more talking. Oww, careful with the backcombing!”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Rose is  _not_  careful with his hair when she grabs him by a tender tuft and drags him to an empty office once her yellow medallion is removed.

“Don’t you  _dare_  ever do that to me again, you got it?”

“Rose, the Cybermen, we don’t know where they are, we have to hurry before—”

She yanks harder. “You got it?” she repeats in a growl. He’s possibly more scared of her in this moment than the Dalek/Cyberman battle only metres away. 

“Yes ma’am!” he squeaks.

“You don’t make my choices for me. I promised you my forever and goddammit you’re getting my forever!”

“I promise!”

“Good.” She lets go of his hair and instead guides him into a fierce kiss, biting and tugging and dominating until he’s putty in her arms.

She lets go and he almost falls to the floor.

“Alright, I’ll check the computers, see what floor the Cyberman have gotten to. I assume you have a plan?”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

She falls into another universe and all he’s left with is a blank white wall. Devastation hits. But then so does the solution.

He calmly walks back to the TARDIS.

He takes a cheek swab, paying careful attention to his lips as well.

He taps in a few numbers, turns a few dials, inserts the DNA specimen into a receptacle that pops up on the console.

There’s a whooshing sound, the sound of a crack he knows will be instantly filled in. And then he turns around and she’s in his arms, Rose is in his arms and he’s never, ever,  _ever_ going to let her go.

“How..?” she chokes out between kisses, in the limited periods of time he allows her to catch a breath before he needs her lips back.

“Prolonged genetic exposure,” he’ll explain later. Much later. “All this kissing and everything else we’ve been doing. You’re part of me now, part of my genetic code. More importantly, I’m part of you. And Time Lords can’t exist in two universes; it’s simply not possible. So I just ran an algorithm to draw my literal other half back to myself. Not that difficult when you’re as clever as I am.”

She’ll smack him lightly and then she’ll plant a kiss right between his hearts. “So if we hadn’t been doing this, if we hadn’t have been kissing all along?”

“I’d have lost you,” he’ll say. And he’ll say it with a grin, because he knows he can’t lose her anymore. Possibly not ever, not in  _his_ lifetimes at least, if he gets enough genetic material in her. It’s a chore he’s willing to bear.

And then he’ll ponder to himself as she falls asleep whether he can find excuses to…insert more of his genes…in their next series of adventures.

Right. Reasons to be inside her. He can work with that.


End file.
